


Sticking Around...

by pherryt



Series: Lost and Found [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bad Pasts, Board Games, Buckys afraid of heights, Climbing, Foster Care, Guitar, Guitar lessons, Highschool AU, Kid Fic, Promising, Secrets Revealed, Sort Of, deaf!Clint, emotionally touchstarved, is that a thing?, mention of drunk drivers and accidents resulting in past death, pre Winterhawk - Freeform, scared!clint, working on hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:08:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28235931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/pseuds/pherryt
Summary: It's been a few weeks now, and Bucky's not sure how much closer Clint is to settling in then when he first arrived at Phil's.
Series: Lost and Found [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2064867
Comments: 20
Kudos: 43
Collections: Bucky Barnes Bingo 2020





	1. Bucky

**Author's Note:**

> Not Beta'd!
> 
> (A) Sequel to Phil's Kids (LOOK - I made a SERIES NOW! Lost and Found) with more planned.
> 
> This whole fic could fill the Kid!fic square (U1) on my Bucky Barnes Bingo (8 days left! EEEP) But I'm marking it down for this chapter, so i can use the last one for a different square. (Which I'm uploading all at once because i have other oneshots that will be going up in the next 8 days and I don't want to be overwhelming. Do you guys think I can finish my card? I'm not actually sure I can, this time.

It had been a few weeks since Clint had come to stay at Phil’s and even when he didn’t avoid everyone, he still really didn’t talk much except one on one. And even then, not much. He was so quiet, the other kids tended to forget he existed, which was just the way he seemed to like it, and the way many foster families might have preferred.

But not Phil. He genuinely wanted Clint to flourish here, and to make friends, and he couldn’t do that if he didn’t open up. But Phil was Phil, and he was such a good foster parent _because_ he didn’t force the issue.

Still, Clint would disappear often and it looked like only Bucky and Steve had any idea as to where, and they were certainly not going to be telling any of the others – especially Pietro. If Clint needed space, then he needed space. Lord knew there wasn’t much privacy here, especially since Clint was _still_ sleeping on a cot in Bucky and Steve’s room.

Bucky really didn’t want to intrude on the one place that Clint felt safe, but he didn’t have much of a choice.

He pushed open the attic window and carefully eased outside. He’d never really been a fan of heights, so this wasn’t anything that had ever crossed his mind. And while Phil had never explicitly said he didn’t want any of the kids on the roof, or in the attic, Bucky was sure he’d have opinions about the fact that Clint _was_ on the roof.

Clint didn’t hear him coming and Bucky swallowed, because the last thing he wanted to do was to startle Clint into falling off the roof. Angling himself so that he would appear in Clint’s line of sight without suddenly appearing next to him, Bucky sat down on the tile and carefully scooted across it.

It worked, drawing Clint’s eye and causing him to blink at Bucky in confusion. Bucky gestured between them and raised an eyebrow. Clint’s eyes flashed with resignation but he nodded. It would be hard to talk if Bucky maintained his distance and Clint surely didn’t want to draw _more_ attention to where he’d been disappearing to.

Bucky flashed him an apologetic smile and then pushed himself across the roof to sit beside Clint.

“Hey, sorry to come out here and bug you but um…” Bucky rubbed at his arm. It had been aching all morning. “Phil’s looking for you. Didn’t think you’d want him finding you up here.”

Clint sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. It’d been a floppy mess when he’d arrived and it’d only gotten worse since then, and Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off it, at the way it would get into Clint’s eyes and annoy the other boy.

“Here,” he said, pulling an extra hair tie off his wrist and reaching towards Clint slowly. “Let me-“

Clint froze, eyes wide, and Bucky froze in response.

“Just a hair tie,” Bucky said as calmly as he could. “Just gonna pull your hair back, okay? Unless you wanna do it?”

They stared at each other for long moments and Bucky could _see_ the gears turning in Clint’s head. He wished he knew where Clint had come from before, what had happened to him – and his brother. All Bucky really knew was that it had been bad _before_ Clint had gone into foster care, which couldn’t have been any better since he and his brother had run away.

Slowly letting out a breath, Clint finally just snatched the hair tie from Bucky’s hand and sloppily pulled his hair back into a pony tail at the base of his neck. It didn’t do much for all the hair in front that was really in the way. Bucky grimaced. “I can fix that for you –“ he offered.

Clint gave a sharp shake of his head and stood. “If Phil’s lookin’ for me, I guess I better get inside.”

Bucky’s stomach swooped as Clint went for the edge of the roof overlooking the room the three of them – Bucky, Clint and Steve – were sharing. “Clint,” he called, his heart in his throat.

Clint turned and looked at Bucky with a frown. “What? You’re the one who came to get me.”

Having difficulty in getting words to form, Bucky pointed back towards the attic window. “Please,” he croaked. Clint followed the line of his hand to the open window and back to Bucky.

“But where’s the fun in that?” Clint asked, sounding genuinely confused as his head tilted to look at Bucky.

“Please, just… use the godddamn window. The one _up here._ Last thing we need is for Pietro to see you climbing up here. Kid’s pretty impressionable, and absolutely prone to pulling stunts like this, and there’s no way he wouldn’t actually fall off the roof.”

Clint turned away from the edge of the roof and walked towards the window with an absolutely surety of balance that Bucky envied. He reached Bucky and held out his hand but Bucky shook his head, turning to crawl back over the shingles and to the window. He didn’t relax until he’d gotten back inside and he slumped, his back against the wall just enough out of the way for Clint to come on through.

It was a long few seconds of Bucky struggling to breath where Clint didn’t follow – but then a shadow blocked the light coming in and soon revealed Clint stepping through the window with a little difficulty. He was taller than Bucky after all, and ducking involved a lot more contortionist style movement than it had for Bucky.

“Hey, um… you okay?” Clint asked suddenly as Bucky shook against the wall.

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Bucky said, holding back the grimace to smile as reassuringly as he could up at Clint. For good measure, never sure how much Clint could and couldn’t hear, he gave Clint a thumbs up that was far shakier than he’d like.

“You sure about that, man? You’re shaking like a leaf.”

“Don’t much like heights,” Bucky shrugged. “I’ll get over it.”

Clint hesitated, but then decided to take Bucky’s dismissal at face value. He shoved his hands into his pockets and waited for Bucky. Bucky wasn’t sure why he bothered but he didn’t say a word. He simply closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths before levering himself back up to his feet and leading Clint through the attic to the access panel and the ladder.

The access panel let out in their room and once Clint had climbed down, Bucky folded the ladder back up and pushed the whole thing back into the ceiling. Clint watched him do it with a thoughtful look.

“Can you open that from the inside?” Clint asked. Bucky paused and looked back up at the access hatch.

“Y’know, I’ve got no idea,” Bucky admitted. “C’mon, the others’ll be home soon. You probably wanna talk to Phil while you can still hear yourself think.”

“How did you get used to it?” Clint asked, following Bucky again as they left the shared room and headed down the stairs. Bucky wasn’t entirely sure what he was asking. The noise? The kids? How crowded it was?

Bucky shrugged, saying, “It was better than being alone.”

“But, you weren’t. You had Steve,” Clint protested. “Your brother. That’s all you really need. ‘Sides, I’ve seen you hiding too.”

“We’re packed in here pretty tight, sure, but they’re all good people who mostly mean well,” Bucky said, pausing at the bottom of the stairs, moving just enough to not trap Clint on them. “Just cause I need space sometimes doesn’t mean I don’t care for them.”

Clint shook his head, clearly not understanding and Bucky let it drop. He wasn’t explaining himself well, he knew. He rubbed at his arm again and hoped it wasn’t a sign of a sleepless night ahead.

“Phil’s in his office,” he said, pointing down the hall before splitting away to head for the kitchen himself and leaving Clint to find Phil on his own.

Bucky puttered about the kitchen, pulling out leftovers and heating them up. He heard Clint moving, heard the tentative knock and the subsequent creak of the door opening and closing. He wondered what they were talking about, or if Clint talked any more with Phil than he did with anyone else.

Sometimes, Bucky didn’t think Clint would ever really open up, especially with his tendency not to talk much at all. He certainly wasn’t making much progress with Clint, it seemed. But then he had to remind himself, that Clint _talked_ to him, which was more than Bucky could say for anyone else.

That was progress, right?

* * *

Bucky had no idea what Phil and Clint talked about, but when it was done, Clint had disappeared again. Then the others came home from the park down the road, bringing in noise and chaos and Bucky didn’t blame Clint. They _were_ a lot to deal with, at times. But Bucky wouldn’t have it any other way.

Clint _did_ come back in time for dinner – which Bucky cooked with Phil’s help, since it was his turn tonight. The other kids had finally acclimatized to his presence, neither badgering him nor ignoring hi, and Bucky was able to see Clint’s shoulders relax as he took his space at the end of the table – always at the end, which just so happened to be next to Bucky.

Bucky wondered if that meant anything more than giving himself a quick escape should the worst happen, and then put it out of his mind.

It was as dinner was finishing up that Phil cleared his throat. The rest of the table quieted, though it took some of them (Pietro) a little longer than others.

“As has become increasingly apparent, we’re running out of room here at the house,” he said. Instantly, everyone around them stilled into an unnatural silence. In fact, Bucky was fairly certain Steve was holding his goddamn breath.

Bucky elbowed him and Steve let out a woosh of air. Phil looked at them and raised an eyebrow.

“Nobody’s getting kicked out, Steve,” Phil said gently. And even though Bucky knew Phil wouldn’t do that, even _he_ relaxed. “But I’ve been considering ways to fix this and make it easier for all of you. I’ve decided to convert the attic space into extra bedrooms. Steve, Bucky and Clint’s current room will be converted so an actual staircase will access the attic and Sam and Pietro’s room will be expanded. Nat and Wanda, I’m sorry, but you two already have the largest of all the rooms. I hope you don’t mind them staying the same, at least for right now?”

Wanda shook her head, looking relieved. Bucky knew she didn’t like being alone and Phil did too, and this gave her an out, of a sorts, an excuse. Nat, who didn’t need any such excuses, just smiled. Sam was pretty easy going, and Bucky could see he really didn’t care that he and Pietro would still be sharing. Pietro, however, started to protest and Phil held up his hand. Pietro huffed and sat back, leaning into his sister with his arms crossed over his chest, but his knee bouncing, the dishes rattling on the table some.

“I know getting their own rooms sounds like a dream but honestly, it’s a trade off. The attic rooms _will_ give more privacy and floor space, let you three stretch out a bit,” Phil said, looking directly at Bucky, Steve and Clint – the latter whom was squirming uncomfortably. “but I’m afraid you’ll be sacrificing some of that in height. You’re not going to be able to stand up comfortably in certain areas.”

Phil turned back towards Pietro.

“And Pietro – your room is already getting bigger and won’t have the same problems. It’s not the best solution, but I never expected to have so many kids under one roof. _Not_ that I’m complaining,” Phil finished, looking each of them in the eye to show his sincerity. “I’m glad to be able to help, and I’m glad for the company. This house seems too small now, but trust me, without you kids, it’d be far, far too big and lonely.”

And that, Bucky realized suddenly, was it. He wasn’t sure how he’d not noticed it before, but Phil was lonely. When holidays came, it was them and sometimes Fury swinging by, but family?

Phil didn’t have any, anymore than the rest of them did. Less, actually, since Bucky had Steve while Pietro and Wanda had each other. Even Clint had a brother out there somewhere. They’d made their own family here. _Phil_ had made a family here. Bucky swallowed past a lump, because he’d long since accepted living here, that Phil actually cared for them, that there had been bonds forged here that would last lifetimes, he was sure.

But he hadn’t quite realized they’d become _family_.

Phil let out a breath that looked oddly vulnerable. That, coupled with his newfound knowledge, caused Bucky to feel an urge to do something for Phil, something more than normal to show his – and everyone else’s - appreciation for everything Phil did for them. He just wasn’t sure what. This was something he’d have to brainstorm with the others.

“Okay, well, I have some contractors coming to look at the attic tomorrow, to see the best way to plan the renovation – I know this house has some odd corners in it. When construction starts, I think the best bet is to move you three boys down into the basement for the duration. Which means the rest of you,” Phil looked around to catch Sam, Pietro, Nat and Wanda’s eyes, “Will need to be respectful of that space in that time. I know it’s a family room and I try not to intrude down there, but it’s only temporary.”

“How long will it take?” Steve asked.

“Hopefully, not long. But that’s what we’ll learn tomorrow. We won’t move anyone just yet anyway. They may be able to do a great deal while you’re in classes, but once they go to put in a real staircase and move that wall for Sam and Pietro, there’ll be no avoiding it.”

There weren’t any more questions as Phil looked around at all of them, waiting, but there were whispers from some of the others of their excitement. Bucky himself wasn’t sure how he’d feel not sleeping in the same room as Steve for the first time in a very long time, but he also found he was _definitely_ looking forward to a little bit more control over who was in his space when.

Which would mean no more Tony barging in looking for Steve. Tony had _no_ sense of boundaries, and could never quite catch the hints when Bucky wasn’t in a good place to deal with him.

“Well, if everything’s settled for now,” Phil said into the chattering storm around them “I believe Sam made something for dessert.”

The chattering increased with staggered cheers and a fist pump or two, and Bucky thought he was the only one who noticed when Clint shoved his chair back and fled the kitchen. He gazed after him worriedly, unsure if he should give chase or not. in the end, he decided to give clint a little space and time before checking on him.


	2. Clint

Clint ran up the stairs, skipping steps on the way. He ducked into the room he was sharing with Steve and Bucky and flung himself onto the cot. It didn’t even creak dangerously the way his cot at the circus had and he felt a sudden irrational surge of anger about that.

Where did this guy get off throwing money around like that? Must be nice to be so rich and not have to worry about shit.

His breathing grew ragged as underneath the anger was a pit of something else, something that whispered that it was _his_ fault Phil was going through such lengths, and it would be taken out of Clint’s hide sooner or later. It always was when someone had to go out of their way for him. At least when the circus went out of their way to train him, Clint knew what they were getting out of him. He was an attraction and all attractions drew in the crowds and brought in money. If you didn’t, the circus cut you loose. It was as simple as that. Quid pro quo or… something?

So what did _Phil_ want?

He’d _said_ he didn’t want anything, but Clint didn’t trust that. Phil had gone out of his way on Clint’s behalf several times in the past few weeks. Giving him a place to stay, fitting him for hearing aids and getting lessons in ASL, and just today Phil had returned Clint’s bow to him with the admonishment not to let Pietro get his hands on it.

Clint’s hands had been shaking when he’d taken the bow and the quiver from Phil. Something easing in him that he hadn’t even realized was tense. He’d gone back to his room, and took the time and privacy to check over his equipment, the itch to shoot becoming near unbearable.

But there was no place to do that here. So, after he was done making sure his bow was good, he’d stashed it all away under his cot, hoping against everything that it would remain undisturbed there.

At least, when Barney found him, Clint wouldn’t be missing anything now.

Where _was_ Barney, anyway? Had he been arrested after all? Clint had wanted to check the news, but there was no way to do so without the others seeing what he was watching, and there was no way he was giving them any clues. What if they put two and two together and came up Clint?

The next best thing was the paper, but reading was a laborious thing at best, so while Clint scanned the newspapers as surreptitiously as he could, he didn’t catch anything though he was sure there had to have been something.

Or had the event that had turned his entire life upside down and backwards really meant absolutely nothing to anyone else?

It was a sobering and ultimately depressing thought, how little anyone cared for Clint’s family and that he and Barney had been doing just fine on their own.

He didn’t realize tears were tracking down his cheeks till the door opened and he felt, more than heard, the heavy tread of Bucky as he came into the room. Clint sat up hurriedly, hiding his face and wiping at it before he could get caught in such a moment of weakness. His dad had smacked him for it, and even Barney had sneered and chided Clint, warning him to make sure their mentors didn’t see him crying.

Bucky was grimacing as he came in, sitting on the edge of his bunk and hunching over. His arm – the one he always seemed to be rubbing at – was curled in against his body, reminding Clint that he wasn’t the only broken one around here. Most days, it didn’t even seem to slow Bucky down any which was…

Clint tried to choke the thought off before it started. He was _not_ going to get attached to anyone. He wasn’t staying.

“Sorry,” Bucky said. “Just couldn’t stay down there and pretend I wasn’t in pain anymore.”

Clint tried to shrug like he didn’t care. “It’s your room.”

“Nah, it’s _our_ room,” Bucky said in that patient tone of his. “Least until we all get our own. Can’t remember the last time I had one all to myself. S’gonna be weird, but I think I’ll like it.”

“Never had one of my own before,” Clint admitted, not even sure why he was still talking, except… except he liked Bucky, and how Bucky didn’t force anything on Clint and – if anything – kept the others from dogpiling him. “It’ll be weird not sharin’ a room, or a bed even.”

Bucky flashed him a smile, a spark of triumph I his eyes and Cint bristled even though he wasn’t’ sure why anything he’d just said would have made Bucky smile like that.

“New we’ grown you,” Bucky said. “see? You’re talkin’ like you plan to stay.”

Clint’s breath caught in his throat and he almost choked on it.

“Fuck,” be breathed. “No, fuck, I can’t…” he snapped his mouth shut, unwilling to give anything else to anyone – not even Bucky. He rolled over, turning his back to Bucky and resolutely didn’t look at him. Instead, Clint’s eyes traced over the cracks in the wall, the splits in the paint blurring before his eyes.

He wasn’t staying here! Barney would come for him.

He had to, right?

* * *

He must have fallen asleep, even though it had been early. Clint jerked awake with a stifled gasp – he’d learned long ago not to make any sounds – or as little as possible - upon waking. He was, he thought, fairly successful in that regard, if Barney’s lack of complaining was anything to go by.

Barney.

All at once, all his uncertainty and fear and the subsequent nightmare all rushed back at him and Clint tried to steady his breathing. Fuck, he was shaking, gulping air – he was going to wake somebody like this.

Rolling over, Clint sat up, eyes darting first to the window, then the attic hatch, then the door. As much as he wanted on the roof, wanted to get up somewhere high, he knew it wasn’t an option. The window was closed and locked, and it made far too much noise to try going out that way. The attic hatch was also equally untenable.

The door, then. At least no one else would be awake for him skulking around the house.

He stood slowly, carefully, tiptoeing to the door on bare feet. He eased it open, slipped through, and gently closed it behind him. he stood for a second and breathed, before continuing to tip toe down the hall and the stairs.

It was when he got to the bottom of the stairs that the idea that he was _skulking about the house_ and could get in trouble with Phil - who would probably think he was trying to get into something he shouldn’t be – hit him, and Clint dropped, hitting the bottom step hard, one hand clutching at the rail.

He curled into it, his head hitting the metal post of the railing just above his hand and he closed his eyes. Would Phil believe him if he said he’d just needed some space? Well, why wouldn’t he? It was the truth! Never mind that adults rarely believed him. And fuck, Clint hadn’t cared much about that just a few short weeks ago, the night Bucky talked him out of running away.

Why had he stayed?

He should have gone, should be out there looking for Barney.

What if something had _happened_ to him, and Clint hadn’t been there for him?

His nightmare rose up in his mind. A vision of Barney broken and bloody, a wreck of a car, looking up at Clint with betrayed eyes, a hand reaching out for him –

A light touch on Clint’s shoulder had him gasping and jerking away from the touch violently, head snapping into the metal rail as he turned and flattened himself against it.

On the step beside him, Bucky froze, holding his hands up before wincing and pulling his left back in against his body. He gestured at the floor.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” Bucky said. “Can I… can I sit?”

Clint narrowed his eyes at Bucky. This was the second time Bucky had turned up when Clint had gone nighttime wandering.

“You watchin’ me?” He demanded.

Bucky shook his head. “Nah, couldn’t sleep.” He waved his right arm at his left arm with a grimace. “Just happened to see you sneaking out.”

“I’m not stealin’ nothin’,” Clint ground out, a sick feeling in his stomach at the thought that Bucky might believe the worst of him. And it wasn’t as if Bucky was wrong. The first time Clint had snuck down here, he was planning to steal some food. And it wasn’t like the circus hadn’t had to resort to petty theft during lean times. Clint had learned how to pickpocket before he and Barney had been there a month, and he’d been refining that ever since.

Though, once he’d become the Amazing Hawkeye, he’d had less need to do that. Not that the circus didn’t still do it in lean times, but they didn’t cut into his performance or practice times. And obviously, they’d been up to much worse, seein’ as how the whole freaking circus had gotten busted.

“Didn’t think you were. But since neither of us can sleep, I thought maybe we could both do with a distraction?”

Bucky’s voice was… hopeful, Clint thought. Though he wasn’t good at reading tone when his ears tended to lose words even now, in the quiet stillness of the night. Clint found he was actually looking forward to picking up his new hearing aids - any day now, Phil had said – despite the cost, and what he would owe Phil afterwards.

“Like what?” Clint asked, narrowing his eyes at Bucky.

Bucky shrugged. “We got about a hundred board games downstairs, and the basement’s soundproofed so we won’t risk waking up Phil.”

Clint slowly uncurled his fingers from the railing and uncurled his body too, though he couldn’t quite get the hunch out of his shoulders. He blew out a breath, then nodded. “Okay.”

The other boy gave him a small, pleased smile – not big, but clearly there – and he moved off the last step and headed for the kitchen. “Let’s get some drinks and snacks first. No game experience is complete without that.”

Following behind Bucky at a careful distance, he froze at the words. “No alcohol,” Clint blurted, eyes gone wide and his breathing speeding up again. He hated the way some of the folks at the circus got when they were drinking. More than one reminding him of his old man, before he got himself and Clint and Barney’s mother killed in an avoidable accident.

Bucky turned to look at him, startled. “No, no alcohol,” Bucky said slowly. The words were so soft, Clint more read them then heard them. He cleared his throat and spoke louder, making it easier for Clint to follow. “Why would you think-? Phil doesn’t even keep any in the house.”

Clint flushed red, knowing his reaction had everything to do with his recent nightmare, the image of the wrecked car which had brought with it the memory of how his parents died, far too close to the surface. He didn’t want to explain himself but…

“An accident,” he said, voice cracking, and taking himself by surprise, but his mouth kept going unbidden. Bucky froze in the act of pulling open the fridge door to look at him with an open, encouraging expression but not otherwise pushing. Clint looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “That’s how our parents died. It was an accident but… it was dad’s fault. He was…”

“He was drinking.” Bucky said the words flatly and when Clint’s eyes flew back to look at him, he saw a cold fury on Bucky’s face that made Clint want to curl into a ball or find the highest point. Instead, he froze, because running always meant worse was coming. Bucky shook his head, and his eyes had filled with something else, something he’d seen in Barney’s eyes when they were younger, something like… fear? “Were you… were you and your brother…?”

Shaking his head, Clint let himself relax, at least a little. “No, we were at home when it happened.”

Bucky seemed to sag at that, his eyes closing in relief – and what did he even care? Clint thought angrily, tempted to just stomp away – except, he didn’t really have anywhere to go, and really, what was going on with him? He was starting to feel like a yo-yo, or maybe like he had whiplash.

Oh, ew, he didn’t want to think about whiplash.

Silence crept between them, Clint about to turn on his heel as Bucky just continued to stare at him, but then Bucky shook his head. “It was a car accident for me too,” Bucky said. His hand let go of the fridge door and came up to cradle his left, the door banging into him unnoticed. “Not Steve’s ma. She would never – but the other guy, the guy that hit us. He was drunk as a skunk,” Bucky said with a grimace. “We don’t like to talk about it, I figure, you don’t either but…”

Bucky gave him a twisted smile and a half shrug and Clint knew that it was a peace offering of sorts, an exchange for what Clint had told him, against his own judgement. It had made him uncomfortable, unsure why he’d told this near stranger _anything_ and so Bucky had done the same.

Swallowing, Clint finished crossing the kitchen, swinging the fridge door open again. “So, what are we grabbing?”

The tension was broken and Bucky grinned at Clint, a grin that just lit up his face and made Clint’s breath caught. He hid it, turning to grab bottles of water out of the fridge under Bucky’s direction while Bucky went to a cabinet and grabbed nacho cheese Doritos.

Together, they slipped down the basement stairs, goodies in hand.


	3. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> U5 - Board Games

That first night in the basement playing board games turned out to be only the first of many.

Clint had whispered a soft “ _thank you_ ,” at the top of the stairs and then by the time they’d reached the bottom, it was if the moment in the kitchen had never happened. And yet, Bucky couldn’t forget it.

He couldn’t forget the fear and the visceral way Clint had reacted on the stairs when Bucky had tried to let him know there was someone there behind him. Bucky had seen the anguish and confusion in Clint’s face as he’d shared yet another puzzle piece of his past, his face gone pale. He’d seen the way Clint had grown so unnaturally still - like that time in the kitchen that first or second day - when Bucky had felt the anger on Clint’s behalf twist inside of him. It must have shown on his face, or his posture or something and he had tried to shake it off.

It wasn’t easy. Bucky was no Steve, to jump into everyone’s problems with no concern to his own, but there’d been something about Clint ever since the first day that had gotten beneath Bucky’s skin.

So Bucky had offered an olive branch, as shaky as it had been for him to pull that out and speak it aloud. Clint seemed to take it as such, relaxing as much as he ever did, never quite fully, but enough that Bucky took it as a win.

They’d stayed up most of the rest of the night, neither of them willing or able - who knew for sure which – to try and drag themselves back off to la la land. Bucky hadn’t been kidding either when he’d noted just how big their game repertoire was. He decided to keep it simple … for the first time anyway, starting with Cartagena – what Bucky liked to call “Grown Up Candyland” where there was actually strategy behind the similar system.

He’d figured a simple game – both in the teaching when Clint might not catch all the words and in the learning despite mutual sleep exhaustion and distraction – might be the best bet. Clint picked up on the game quickly, and it wasn’t long before he was playing a sequence that had him leapfrogging past Bucky and straight into the boat.

Clint grinned up at him. “Did I just win?”

“Almost,” Bucky grinned back. “Don’t forget you got 5 other dudes that gotta reach the boat too. Your pirate crew has to stick together to win.”

“Hmm… what happens if I get all my guys in the boat and you have a few of yours in there too?”

“No honor among thieves, I guess,” Bucky shrugged. “Your guys kick mine off the boat and sail off in victory.”

The grin on Clint’s face faltered and when it picked back up it was fragile. Bucky wondered what he’d said. It was another clue to Clint, he was sure, but prying right now didn’t feel right.

He let it go and eventually, the tension eased again.

Bucky was exhausted for school the next day, but it wouldn’t be the first time and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. But the ache in his arm had let up some, and that was good.

Clint didn’t join them.

It had been a couple of weeks and there’d been a delay in getting Clint the hearing aids – Bucky wasn’t sure what, but the end result was that after the placement testing, Phil had arranged for someone to come _to_ the house instead for Clint. For some of the others, that had led to a lot of speculation, which Bucky and Steve had done their best to shut down.

That had worked in the household, but school was a different story. Everyone knew by now that Phil had gotten a new kid and curiosity was running rampant. Bucky didn’t envy Clint when he finally _did_ start school. The kid would have enough problems without nosy bodies getting in his business.

When Bucky got home, Clint was sporting a new fashion statement – bright purple hearing aids, wrapping around his ears. Bucky grinned as he came in to fix himself a snack.

“Congratulations, Clint,” he said. “How’s it feel?”

“Weird,” Clint said, a tentative smile twitching on his own face. “But… good. I…” He shook his head. “I don’t even know how to describe it.”

“Oh wow, awesome!” Steve exclaimed as he trooped in after Bucky, the others following along, dumping their bags on the table or on the floor by it. “I hope they help lots.”

Clint winced a little as they all moved around the kitchen, their usual loud selves. “It’s… going to take some getting used to.” He looked down, his hands wrapped around a mug and Bucky saw Clint’s fingers tighten a little. “I might still miss things,” Clint murmured.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Steve said jovially, patting Clint on the shoulder. Not hard, Bucky knew, but it was still enough for Clint to tense up, his eyes darting over to Bucky, then back down at his mug. At least he hadn’t been lost in himself this morning, the way he’d been last night. Bucky had a feeling Clint would have been mortified if everyone had seen that, and that it had been bad enough that Bucky had.

One by one, they all gathered around the table with snacks and homework. Everyone was soon lost in a mix of studying and conversation when suddenly Pietro blurted out,

“Hey, whatever happened to that circus? Weren’t there, like, flyers for it a few weeks back? I was really looking forward to going, but I can’t find any of the flyers. Did we miss it?”

“Huh,” Steve said thoughtfully. “I remember those flyers. Uh, Carson’s Circus, I think? I wasn’t going to go, so I wasn’t paying attention.”

Bucky looked up from his paper as Pietro gaped. “What? Why not? I heard there would be elephants and lions! Wouldn’t that be something? Can’t you take rides on the elephants before the show starts?”

“Not anymore,” Steve said fiercely, leaning over. “There are all sorts of regulations now, because of the treatment of the animals – “

“Oh, here we go again,” Sam muttered, then spoke up. “I think Steve planned to boycott the circus. Like one kid’s refusal to buy a ticket was going to convince the circus to let the animals go.”

“What do you know how the animals were treated?” Clint suddenly broke in, his words sounding… wrong. Everyone froze and blinked at the suddenness of him actually talking to _any_ of them, turning to face him. Clint winced, nearly pulling back before straightening in his seat and glaring at them all. “All the animals at Carson’s were treated better than I was, half the places I’ve been. Probably better’n any of _you_ were.”

Clint scowled, scraping his few books and supplies together and escaping from the stunned silence he left in his wake.

It took a few moments, and then the uproar that occurred was more or less what Bucky expected. He rubbed at his temples as a headache formed, while questions of how _Clint_ could know that bounced around the table.

* * *

Clint wasn’t in their room when Bucky went up later, and he didn’t come down for dinner either, but that wasn't unusual. Still, Bucky exchanged worried glances with Steve because they both knew where Clint likely was and it still gave Bucky the chills.

Bucky had just put his things away and sat down with his guitar when there was a soft knock on the door. He looked at Steve and Steve shrugged, getting up to open it. They knew it wouldn’t be Clint, he’d have just come back through the window. And Pietro and Sam were never gentle when they knocked (if Pietro bothered at all). Phil was firm but not quiet. Wanda tended to leave them alone, so that left Nat.

She poked her head in as soon as the door opened, her laptop under her arm.

“Just you two?” she asked. When Steve nodded, she stepped in, placing the laptop on the desk. “I googled Carson’s Circus.”

“What? Nat, no,” Bucky said. “We shouldn’t be prying.”

“It’s not prying to want to find out why it disappeared. Pietro really was set on going, you know,” Nat said. “And I remembered the flyers too.”

Steve had crossed his arms over his chest, just as reluctant as Bucky to pry, though he wavered at that. “Nat – “

“There’s nothing about him in the article, so it’s not really prying, is it?” she tossed out. Steve took a step forward, his arms loosening.

“But you think it _does_ have something to do with him _,_ or you wouldn’t be in here,” Bucky said slowly, setting the guitar aside with a sigh. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, swearing when his fingers got caught in a tangle.

“I think he needs a friend,” she said slowly. “And I think he’s waiting for something that’s never going to happen. Just… read it, please.”

Unable to hold back his own curiosity any further - and the idea that Bucky couldn’t help if he didn’t know what was going on - he stood, crossing the small room in just a couple strides. Together, he and Steve bent over the laptop, eyes scanning the article.

It talked about a bust, some weeks back. How the circus had merely been a front – but that not all the folks working with the circus had known. There’d been arrests, many of them, while others had been let go, and a handful had gotten away. Though the article didn’t mention a Clint Barton at all, Bucky’s eyes caught on the name of one _Barney_ Barton.

Bucky let out an explosive breath and fell back towards his chair, letting himself drop into it heavily. Same last name. Clint waiting for his brother – the only family he had left. The timing of it all. That had been just a day or two before Fury had brought Clint here.

Steve swore softly. “Do the others know?”

“Not yet. Sam and Wanda don’t really care and Pietro’s been grounded from using the internet for anything other than class related subjects,” Nat said.

“I don’t really understand what you expect us to do with this information,” Bucky finally said.

Nat closed her laptop and tucked it back under her arm. “I don’t know either. But he’s living with _you,_ and going into a situation without knowledge won’t help anyone.”

With those cryptic words, words the felt too wise for her years, she slipped back out of the room. Steve still stood by the desk, his hands on his hips as he stared down at it, biting his lip. Bucky picked the guitar back up and sighed.

“Don’t even think about it, Stevie,” Bucky said, stretching out his fingers before giving the guitar a tuning strum.

“Think about what?” Steve asked, giving Bucky his most innocent look. Bucky snorted.

“Don’t bring it up. Don’t pressure him. You mean well, Steve, but you’re like a dog with a bone, only you pushin’ at him is just gonna have him clamming up. He’ll open up if and when he’s good and ready.”

Steve, thankfully, dropped it, turning to grab a sketchbook and a pencil case before climbing into the top bunk. Bucky passed the time alternatively practicing on his guitar with faltering fingers and glancing out the window at a darkening sky.

What would Clint do when the weather was too cold and dangerous to go up to the roof or leave the window open? Or hell, when the workmen came by and got to the point that they’d need to vacate their room for the basement?

How would Clint cope when his coping mechanism was taken away from him?

Getting his own room might help, having a space all of his own to feel safe when needing to retreat, but might also hurt, because it would give Clint less reason to connect with them all.

He knew it would take time for Clint to feel at ease here, and with the uncertainty of his brother hanging in the air, Bucky thought that day could be a long time coming. But he just couldn’t decide if this would work out for the better or not.

 _Be safer, though,_ he thought, repressing another shudder.

Clint climbed back through the window not long after, when the sun was going down, grimacing a little when he saw both Bucky and Steve, but then pausing as Bucky’s fingers stumbled over the strings. Hesitatingly, Clint sat on his cot – perching, more like – and watched. Bucky fumbled, blushing a bit and ducking his head to peer down at his fingers as they struggled with the frets.

“You can play?”

“Eh, if you want to call it that,” Bucky said, giving a small shrug. “I’m better some days than others. Today’s an off day.”

“Your hand?” Clint asked. His voice was low, as if he was uncertain he should ask, and if he said it low enough Bucky might not get offended or could pretend he never heard the question.

Bucky nodded. His arm was no secret and was a fact of life. The guitar was supposed to help him, though he found it very frustrating on his off days to stumble painstakingly through a piece he’d made progress with before.

“Sure you’re better than I would be,” Clint said.

Feeling a flash of inspiration, Bucky looked up, letting his left arm fall to rest in his lap. “You wanna give it a shot? I could show you some basics.” He heard Steve shuffle above; a small, soft sound Bucky didn’t think Clint could hear, even with the new hearing aids. He just thanked _God_ Steve was staying quiet and hoped no one else would disturb what might be a promising moment.

Clint started to shake his head. “No, I wouldn’t – “ he paused, head tilting a little before saying, “Maybe? I – I mean, if you’re sure?”

“Wouldn’t have offered. My fingers could use the break anyway,” Bucky said, offering Clint an excuse. This time, with a little hope in his eyes, Clint nodded, so Bucky stood, joining Clint on the cot, though still giving him some space.

Taking the guitar gingerly, Clint settled as Bucky directed. Bucky couldn’t help but admire his fingers as they curled around the arm of the guitar and took up the pick. It didn’t take long before Clint was successfully strumming his first chord and Bucky was showing him a second so he could practice changing between the two.

“Can you play a song with only two chords?” Clint asked, looking up at Bucky. His eyes were really bright blue, Bucky thought, when he was excited or enjoying something and that was… something.

He cleared his throat. “Sure can. First one I learned was ‘A Horse With No Name’.”

Clint frowned. “Don’t know that one.” He drew back and looked like he was reconsidering this whole thing and Bucky hurried to assure him.

“Don’t need to. Guess it _is_ pretty old, but, it’s a good song for beginners. Here…” He fumbled for his phone and tapped out a search in YouTube, then pulled it up. “Listen to that.”

The music started playing and he watched Clint’s brows knit together. “I dunno, that seems pretty complicated.”

“It’s just stuff layered on top. You only need to change chords every – “ Bucky took the guitar back, settling it into place, demonstrating the pattern. “- like that. Now you try.”

Clint took it back and, with his tongue poking out the slightest bit, proceeded to copy Bucky’s example. It was clumsy, but Bucky did worse on his off days. But Clint winced and shook his head, dropping his hands away and trying to hand the guitar back with a short laugh that sounded a little defeated.

“Don’t think I’m any good at this,” Clint said.

“Sure you are. That’s better than my first attempt. Hell, ask Stevie how bad I am most days,” Bucky said. “You did real good.”

Clint didn’t say anything to that but his eyes went wide and Bucky busied himself with putting the guitar away and tried not to think about Clint’s expression. How pleased but wary he’d been at the same time. Bucky didn’t need to think on it. He didn’t have to wonder just how bad Clint’s life had been before. Clint had already said enough that Bucky could draw his own conclusions.

He just hoped they could make it better, and that Clint would stick around long enough to let them.


End file.
